


Sisters of the Moon

by sweetestsight



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Can be read as gen, F/F, Gothic, Mythology - Freeform, cult mentions, witch mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24486214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetestsight/pseuds/sweetestsight
Summary: Joanna Deacon makes the drive up to the old May house for water from the family's well. Upon arriving she wonders if she gave more for the water than she bargained--and if the strange women living in the mysterious mansion are more than they appear.Either way, Regine isn't going to like it.
Relationships: John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Sisters of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song of the same name by Fleetwood Mac

How Regine found the place, Joanna isn’t quite sure.

She thinks the property is either a rental from a friend, or some sort of old family house that has fallen into disuse. She forgot to ask her properly, in all truthfulness, and makes a mental note to inquire about it as soon as her friend arrives. The neighbor who’s currently showing her around the property has been less than helpful about the topic.

The neighbor’s name is Gretchen. She’s short, surly, and has the air of someone who hasn’t seen civilized society for a little too long.

“This place has been closed up for about eight years now,” Gretchen grumbles, leading Joanna through the sheet-covered furniture of the house. “Haven’t seen hide nor hair of Miss Taylor except for in the winters when she and her brother come up to check on the property—no, you don’t want to touch that,” she says quickly when Joanna reaches over to poke at a concealed piano. “Anyway, the house has the usual country estate problems, so mind yourself.”

They reach the kitchen, sparse and slightly dusty. “Country estate problems?” Joanna says hesitantly.

“Yeah, you know. Slow heating, not that that’ll be much of a problem considering the summer weather is rolling in pretty nice now. Drafty at night, though. Water’ll be a problem, too.”

Joanna frowns, reaching over to turn on the sink. The faucet splutters once, then releases a thin stream of rust-colored water. Both Joanna and Gretchen recoil.

“Should I just run it, or…” Joanna starts.

Gretchen snorts. “Yeah, it’ll clear out. Run the tub for a while and it should be fresh again in an hour. The wells on this side of the area aren’t great.”

“Wells?”

“City girl?” Gretchen ventures. “All the houses out here are on well water. It runs red on the worst days, and even then it’ll never quite taste right. If you want to get some real drinking water you have to travel a little further for it.”

“To the shops?” Joanna asks with a frown. Her mini cooper is parked in the dirt driveway, and she had hoped to leave it there all week after the long drive from London.

Gretchen shrugs. “If you’ve got a spare hour. Otherwise, you could try the old May house.”

“Where’s that?”

“Just down the road. They have the best well for hours.”

“Just down the road?” Joanna repeats. “That sounds doable.”

Gretchen raises her eyebrows. “Love, there are a few things you need to know if you’re headed out that way, alright?”

“What?” Joanna laughs. “Is it dangerous?”

“Dangerous? Not if you listen to me. The house is owned by a few young women. Now, you know how it is in the country,” and then she pauses to trace her eyes over Joanna’s suede boots, white bell bottoms and sky-blue blouse, “or maybe you don’t. I don’t know. Here’s the deal. First of all, don’t tell them your real name.”

“Don’t tell them my real name?”

“Yeah. Names have power. Second, bring them a gift. Some wine, maybe, or some food. Don’t consume anything within the house unless it’s the gift that you brought. They’ll offer you something to eat, but don’t take it.”

“What are they? Fae?” Joanna asks, laughing nervously.

“Don’t kid,” Gretchen warns. “You make a joke of it now, but you can’t be too careful.”

Joanna tamps down on her laughter, nodding somberly even as she internally rolls her eyes. Country people and their superstitions... “Okay. What else?”

“This is the third and final rule,” Gretchen says slowly, staring directly into Joanna’s eyes. “Do not tell Miss Taylor that you went to see them. She wouldn’t like it.”

Joanna frowns. “Why not?”

“Old family feud. Nothing you need to worry about. Whether you go or not is up to you, alright? Just don’t tell her about it.”

She waits only twenty minutes after Gretchen’s departure before climbing back into her car, a bottle of mead in the passenger seat and a large empty soup pot in the back.

The further she drives down the dirt road, the more the trees form a canopy. This area of the country is old; old enough that humans cleared the ancient forests, left their mark, and then died too soon to see those marks fill in with undergrowth once more.

When she reaches the May house she’s greeted by an old wrought-iron gate hanging half off its hinges and choked with brambles. It’s open, at least. She drives down the long driveway, the oaks on either side thick enough that three people couldn’t wrap their arms around them and keep their hands interlinked.

The house is at the very end. It’s elegant, made of limestone and decorated with wisterias and jasmine vines. While the rest of the property has fallen into disrepair, the house itself is charmingly worn. The foundation has settled slightly on itself and left the walls a little crooked, but the path is clean and the windowsills are freshly painted. It’s a homey oasis in the midst of the dark overgrowth.

A cat jumps down from the porch and slinks around the back of the house as she parks in the circular driveway, gripping the bottle of mead in her hand as she eyes the front door. She remembers Gretchen’s words warily, then shakes her head. There’s nothing sinister about a few young women living together in an old house. She has nothing to fear.

She climbs out of the stars and walks up the shallow steps to the front door. There’s no knocker or doorbell, and she eyes the door for a moment before reaching out and knocking. It swings open under the force of her fist.

“Hello?” she calls warily. Nobody responds.

She pushes the door open gently, and it swings wider on silent hinges. She peeks through the gap, but all she sees is golden light filtering through windows.

She pushes it open further, stepping warily across the threshold, then gasps.

The marble floor is cracked and faded with age, but that doesn’t take any splendor away from the beautiful mosaic of pieces of marble and fine stones. A wide arch of brass inlays dots out a path across the floor, the moon in various phases following its curve. Lapis lazuli stars are scattered through the doorway, the milky way leading a path across the grand atrium and toward the bass of the stairs in specks of rose quartz and turquoise. The high stained glass windows cast yellow and red shapes across the whole glittering expanse of it, and for a long moment it takes her breath away.

And then a movement at the top of the stairs catches her eye and she gasps again, nearly dropping the bottle.

“I am so sorry,” she stammers quickly. “I’d never—I don’t make it a point to come into people’s homes unannounced. I just—I knocked and the door opened and I—”

“Relax,” the woman says, her elegant hand coming to rest on the banister at the top of the stairs. She’s dressed all in black, simple pants and a long overshirt that hangs more like a dress. Her curls fall glossy and neat across her exposed collar bones. “It’s alright.”

Joanna swallows. “Are you Miss May?”

She smiles softly. “You can call me Bri. Can I have your name?”

Joanna opens her mouth, then hesitates. “My friends call me Jay,” she says hesitantly.

Somehow that just makes Bri smile even more. “You came for water, I’d assume.”

“I did,” Joanna says, holding up the bottle. “I brought you a gift.”

Bri starts down the stairs. She moves absolutely silently—quieter than a spider, quieter than the wind, quieter than the air tingling in the silence—and Joanna rubs her fingers against the bottle nervously.

Bri stops in front of her finally, taking the bottle when she offers it. “Mead,” she sighs happily. “I love mead. Thank you, Jay. This was a very generous gift. Have some with me?”

Joanna nods hesitantly. Bri smiles and Joanna follows her across the waxing gibbous moon, all the way to the wide moonstone of the full phase. Finally they cross through a doorway and into a kitchen.

The sunlight is warm and golden in this room. Herbs hang from a rack suspended over the sink, drying in the sun. On the butcher block counter is a wide array of trays and plates full of sweets—tiny petits fours, a small bowl of truffles, a Victoria sponge dripping with cream—and Bri eyes them for a long moment. She opens her mouth and then shuts it again, not offering Joanna anything and instead turning to a silver rack of crystal goblets. For a moment Joanna is almost relieved that she doesn’t have to turn down her offer.

The mead is poured into the goblets, as warm as amber when it catches the sunshine. Bri hands Joanna a goblet. Her fingers are cool and smooth when they brush Joanna’s own.

“To your health, Jay,” Bri says softly as she clinks their glasses together.

“Likewise,” Joanna breathes. She drinks, and the taste spreads smooth and sweet against her tongue.

Bri smiles dreamily as she sips her own, licking her lips after she swallows. “I’ve always loved honey. Bees, too. There’s something about them that I find so charming.”

Joanna tilts her head. “About bees?”

“Mmh. It’s the way they work together. The sounds, too. I don’t know.” She shakes her head slightly, her curls bouncing. “They remind me of summer.”

“Do you like summer?”

“Better than winter,” she mutters, half to herself, and Joanna grins.

“Me, too. It gets so dreary in the city.”

“You’re from London?”

“Not originally,” she says, turning the glass in her hands. “I live there right now, anyway.”

Bri nods as if that’s the most interesting thing she’s ever heard. A moment later she starts. “I’m sorry. I’m being rude. Would you like to sit down?” she asks, gesturing to a circular oak breakfast table in a hexagonal nook.

“Oh. Please,” Joanna says quickly, following Bri to the table and taking a seat. Bri sits beside her, placing the bottle between them.

“Sorry. You were talking about London,” Bri prompts.

“Yes. Well, I’m just there for school. I’m originally from Oadby.”

“And what brings you out here?” Bri asks, her eyes sparkling. Her pupils are infinite depths within the hazel, as round and dark as the new moon, and Joanna swallows.

“I just wanted to see the area,” she says, purposefully avoiding the topic of Regine. If their families have a history then it’s better left unmentioned. “But what about you? Have you always lived here?”

“Not always, no,” Bri says. “I like to travel, but something always brings me back. The house has been in my family for years.”

“Years?”

There’s a noise at the doorway, and Joanna starts.

“Fred,” Bri says lowly.

A woman steps neatly through the doorway, unbuttoning her long brown maxi coat as she goes. The cut of it rings vaguely in Joanna’s mind as Victorian, the way her dark hair falls in sheets against her shoulders speaking of a high-brow elegance. She unbuttons her coat deliberately, pushing it gently down her shoulders to reveal a flowing white sundress.

“I thought we were going to stop doing this, Bri,” she says, her voice musical and lilting, but from the way she smiles gently it doesn’t quite come out as the reprimand it may have been meant as.

Bri smiles up at her like she’s the sun, or the full moon. “Freddie, this is Jay,” she says happily. “She’s new to the area, and she brought us mead. Would you like some?”

“Please,” Freddie purrs, snagging a goblet from the counter and settling at the round table. Bri fills it carefully, the sound of it musical in the silence, and Freddie smiles at her gratefully as she takes her first sip. “Lovely. Very nice, Jay. Thank you. And such a beautiful color. I’ve always loved yellow.”

“Freddie’s been staying with me here since ’69,” Bri explains. “She came to get water from my well and never really left.”

“Because she begged me not to,” Freddie confides to Joanna.

Bri elbows her, laughing. “I did no such thing,” she tells Joanna loudly. “She _asked_ me if she could stay, because her house was half-decrepit and she didn’t know how to mend the roof—”

“Oh, I did too,” Freddie gripes.

“I was the only one in the area who had any clean water at the time, let alone any nails. _And_ I was the only one even willing to mend the roof for her, since she’s too lazy to do it herself.”

“Would you really call me lazy to my face, love?” Freddie asks her. “I can’t believe this. After all I do for you.”

“Oh yes, you do so much,” Brianna teases.

Joanna shifts. She feels suddenly as if she’s intruding. She can’t read the room here—can’t tell whether they’re good friends or something more—and it’s leaving her on uneven ground.

Freddie turns to her suddenly, her face growing serious. “Don’t take any of it to heart now, Jay,” she says softly. The shadows of her eyes draw Joanna endlessly in, the gold light glinting in their depths reminding her of stars. “It’s alright. I swear we’re close friends.”

“I believe you,” Joanna says softly, confused.

“But enough about reminiscing, now. We have carousing to do, don’t we?”

They swiftly finish the bottle of mead. The room gets warmer as they do, and Joanna finds herself laughing easier and smiling wider as a familiar buzz begins in the back of her head. The women are good company, even despite the oddness surrounding the house and the strange nature of how Gretchen had spoken of them. As the bottle runs dry her chest feels looser, a sense of ease settling against her shoulders like a blanket.

She can understand why Freddie had never wanted to leave this place.

“Why was it you came to us then, Jay?” Freddie says finally, still trying to catch her breath at a bout of laughter from one of Joanna’s stories. “Other than simply for the company, that is.”

Right. The reason for her visit. “I’d come to inquire after some water from your well,” Joanna replies. “I’ve only just arrived at my house, and the water isn’t running clear quite yet.”

“I know how that is,” Freddie sighs. “And it’s true. Bri’s well really is the sweetest for hours and hours.”

“Why is that?”

Bri shrugs. “Something about the soil, maybe. People used to fight over underground springs like this in ancient times. The fact that one rests below my family’s land is just a stroke of luck.”

“Perhaps you’d like to try some?” Freddie asks. She picks up a crystal pitcher from the table—which Joanna blinks at for a long moment, trying to figure out why she hadn’t noticed it before—and the clear water inside rocks gently at the movement. “With no water at your house, you must be parched.”

All of a sudden it’s all she can think about. Her tongue feels like cotton. She’d kill for just a sip. “Please,” she murmurs, pushing her empty goblet toward Freddie, and Freddie smiles.

She pours the water slowly into the goblet. It flows clear as anything, tinkling against the crystal. “It’s really the best you’ll ever have,” Freddie says lowly. “Don’t let anyone know or they’ll be trying to bottle and sell it for a pretty pound.”

“Thought we weren’t doing this anymore, Freddie,” Bri says softly, in the same teasing reprimand that Freddie had used when she’d first walked in the door.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Freddie chides. “It’s distilled and pure. There’s nothing wrong with a drink of water. Especially not after an afternoon of wine,” she adds with a laugh, and Joanna grins.

Now that the glass is full of something clear it casts rainbows across the oak tabletop. She turns it against the table and watches the rainbows dance for a long moment, then raises it to her lips.

“Don’t drink that,” a voice says behind her.

She turns, nearly dropping it. Her eyes widen at the figure in the doorway of the kitchen, her golden hair catching the sunlight and her usually happy eyes narrowed in anger. “Reg,” she says happily, turning to her fully as she sets the glass down.

“Why’d you bring her here, Brianna?” Regine says, ignoring her.

From the other side of the table Bri huffs out a laugh. “Regine. I don’t remember inviting you in. Jay came of her own volition to use our well.”

“And you decided to trick her into staying?”

“The water is pure. It won’t do anyone any harm.”

Regine’s jaw clenches. “Get up, Deaks. We’re leaving.”

Joanna frowns. “Reg,” she starts.

Regine shakes her head. “Now.”

“You’re being rude.”

“I don’t care.”

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Bri says lowly.

“I thought your line was dying with you,” Regine says flatly, her eyes darting to Freddie.

Freddie just laughs. “I’m here of my own volition, same as Jay is,” she says. “You should stop believing myths, dear. Not everything your great-grandparents tell you is true, you know.”

“What is this?” Joanna asks, her voice faint. She feels lost and tired. The spinning of her head is no longer pleasant.

Freddie pats the back of her hand. “Drink some water. It’ll help.”

“A woman told me not to eat anything here,” Joanna tells her, wincing. It sounds terribly rude aloud.

Freddie smiles tightly. “She means food and drink, darling. It’s old fae magic. Pure water is different. Even if that were true, water wouldn’t hurt you.”

Joanna frowns, but the earnestness in Freddie’s eyes has her nodding. She takes a long drink of water, the sweet coolness of it making her eyelids flutter, and feels immediately more clear-headed.

“Better?” Freddie asks her, and she nods.

Regine huffs. Sensing her own defeat, she paces closer to the table and settles her hands on the back of Joanna’s chair. “There’s a reason our families don’t get along,” she says to Bri. “Try as you might to ignore that, it doesn’t change the wrongs that were committed.”

Brianna blinks up at her. “You don’t think it’s time to forge a new path?”

“We _can’t_ forge a new path. You and I…”

“Please. We’ve barely spoken.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“What’s happening here?” Joanna says under her breath to Freddie.

Freddie sighs tiredly. “You can choose whether to believe it or not,” she says quietly. “There are a lot of different beliefs this far out in the country, alright? Brianna’s family has a bad reputation for being…atypical.”

“Atypical?”

“It’s cult magic,” Regine snaps. “They worship the moon.”

Brianna rolls her eyes, her calm demeanor finally slipping. “Please. Like you’re any better, with your water coven.”

“What?” Joanna asks.

“Did Regine never mention that to you?”

“Shut up,” Regine snaps. “Shut up right now, or so help me—”

“What are you talking about?” Joanna asks, turning to look up at her. Freddie pats the back of her hand again, warm and comforting.

Regine rolls her eyes. “There’s an old, stupid and fake story that my family is descended from naiads. Water nymphs,” she says quickly. “Which isn’t true, obviously, because there’s no such thing.”

“And yet that doesn’t stop you from upholding near-ancient blood feuds,” Brianna says dryly. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you you shouldn’t throw stones from a glass house? We could easily all get along, Taylor. Your friend is lovely, by the way.”

“Leave her alone,” Regine snaps.

“Reg,” Joanna says under her breath, “please don’t make a big deal about this. They’re nice.”

“You only just met them, Joannie. You can’t really be so trusting.”

“She’s an adult. I’m pretty sure she’s old enough to make her own decisions,” Bri says.

“Not if she’s getting tricked!”

“Darling, you’re making a mountain out of a mole hill,” Freddie intones dryly. “She likes it here. We like her. That’s all there is to it. Besides, the Mays are short on friends these days thanks to you lot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that after the rumors you spread people hate us,” Brianna snaps. “They come here for the water and then turn around and call us witches as soon as they leave. The nerve of it, to be loved by them in private while the public hates us, and all the while you—”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Regine says, though she now sounds unsure.

“I’m not! You think this is dramatic?”

Joanna rolls her eyes, suddenly feeling ignored. The cat she’d seen on the porch slips in through an open window, stepping neatly across the counter and sitting down on the linoleum. It stares at her with somber yellow eyes.

“You two are a cliché,” Freddie says. “I hope you know that.”

“You’re not serious,” Regine snarls.

Joanna stands, unnoticed by the other women. She walks closer to the counter.

“Pushing and pulling like moon and the tides,” Freddie says. “If you would just stop and _listen_ to each other—”

“That’s on her, not me,” Brianna says quickly.

An elaborate tea is spread across the counter: scones with clotted cream, cakes dotted with lavender blossoms, tiny jars of marmalade and honey, devilled eggs, bite-sized quiches, bowls of fruit and berries. A bottle of champagne is chilling in an aluminum bucket, the ice barely even melted. The cat blinks at her from the midst of it.

“You both want friends,” Freddie continues, her voice rising. “You’re sad and lonely, and this feud is going to be the death of both your families! You’re the last women in your lines! Can you just get it together long enough to understand that you’re better together than apart?”

“She’s the one who needs to understand that,” Regine snaps.

“She is? You are!”

The cat blinks slowly at her. She steps closer and hears a deep rumble in its chest as it begins to purr.

Regine huffs. “I wrote to her years ago that I wanted to be friends. Freddie, you know that damned well. It’s her fault that she spurned—”

“I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” Brianna snaps, “seeing as it was my father who intercepted it and not me!”

The room goes silent. Joanna barely notices. The light shines off the frosting of a small chocolate cake, and the gears of her mind begin ticking away.

“You never told me that,” Regine says shortly.

“So what? That doesn’t mean you had to be a right knob about it. As if I’d ever want to be friends with the likes of you.”

“That’s rich, coming from a fucking hermit,” Regine snaps, voice rising.

Joanna reaches for a pile of grapes, plucking one off the vine. They’re juicy and plump, still wet from being washed, the green fruit translucent and nearly glowing. She raises it to her lips and the cat blinks at her happily. The skin breaks beneath her teeth, the juice blooming sweetly across her tongue. She hums in contentment.

All eyes in the room turn to her.

She ignores them, reaching for another and popping it into her mouth. It’s sweeter than the last, sweet as honey, and her eyelids flutter. Across the room, she hears Freddie gulp.

“How many months in the underworld does that get me?” she asks dryly, reaching for another and plucking it from the vine, rolling it carefully between her fingers. “Two? Three?”

“We wouldn’t force you to stay here, Jay,” Brianna says, her voice faint.

“Pity,” Joanna muses. She stands up straight as she eats the last one, chewing it slowly as she paces closer to the table. She swallows just as she reaches Regine, who’s watching her lips with an unreadable expression. “I thought better of you, Reg,” she says softly. “You don’t give in to prejudices. You certainly don’t follow them blindly.”

“This is different,” Regine says, her voice thin.

“Is it?” Joanna asks her, barely above a whisper, before turning to the women seated at the table. “And you,” she says softly. “So you haven’t been friends in the past. It doesn’t mean you can’t start now. Talk about glass houses. We’re all lonely people. The least we can do is try to ease that in each other, blood feud be damned. No family matter can ruin that.”

“It’s not just a squabble,” Regine says lowly. “It’s—this used to be our spring. It was a symbol of my family. These waters were sacred to us before they took them.”

“Took them _back_ ,” Brianna says. “Besides, you don’t have claim to every water source just because of your lineage. Water is sacred to us, too. The moon and the sea are intertwined.”

“That has nothing to do with the waters right here.”

“Then share them,” Joanna says quickly, sensing another argument brewing. The two women stare at her in shock and disgust. “You can share, right? You’re lonely, Bri, and it’s a big house.”

“I can’t— _what?_ ”

“We can’t just move in together, Jay,” Regine hisses.

“Why not?” Joanna snaps. “Why the fuck not? If it’ll get you all to stop fighting all the time then I really don’t see why not.”

Brianna huffs, looking away. She mutters something under her breath.

“What?” Joanna asks impatiently.

“I said I wouldn’t _mind,”_ she repeats quietly.

Regine sputters. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! It’s been weird and quiet here since my parents left, and—”

“What if I don’t want to move in with a bunch of cultists?”

“Then you don’t have to!” Freddie snaps. “It’s a fucking offer, okay? If you want your old land back that badly and if you’re sick of living in that shack down the road, you know where to find us.”

Regine crosses her arms, fuming. Joanna just rolls her eyes. She knows how she gets when she’s angry, and she counts down in her head slowly.

_Five, four, three, two—_

“You’re serious?” Regine says.

“Yes!” Freddie snaps. “Do what you want! We have plenty of space. We won’t even have to look at each other if we don’t want to!”

Regine glares at them. Then she turns and glares at Joanna for good measure. Joanna just raises her eyebrows in response.

They end up relocating for the rest of their holiday.

**Author's Note:**

> I had two parts planned for this originally, but I thought I'd put this one out first just to let you all know that I'm still around and that yes, I swear I will come back to the vlog au eventually! Life has been really busy recently, but I'm still thinking about you all <3 Also, I realized the other day that I almost never post anything anymore that isn't rated E, so...here you go. Some good clean fun!
> 
> I've got a ton of wips that I'm juggling right now, but I really hope that you liked this in the meantime! I've been holding onto it for a while, so let me know what you think :-) Hope you're all doing well!


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